


Smoke and Memories

by OnlyZuul



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, M/M, Memories, Military Backstory, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:47:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5740762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyZuul/pseuds/OnlyZuul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet moment, an old habit, and a rambling story.</p><p>First posted fic! Go me!</p><p>1/19-Edit, because I like poking things.</p><p>2/1- New chapter</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Welp. That's that. You holdin' up, Blue?”

Nate could recall, before the War, before...everything, taking a tour of the Beantown Brewery with a handful of his old squadmates. There, a man who, to Nate, resembled every high-school shop teacher explained the careful process of brewing beer: hot water and barley, the pile of sugar-water, the blending in of hops, the all-important yeast. Perkins, his old radioman, had gotten the idea to home-brew his own batch on the drive to the V.A. Office.

“Just in time for Halloween.” The last thing he ever heard Perkins say.

Now, two hundred and four years later, it was a dingy, disgusting hiding-hole for the dregs of humanity. 

Former hiding-hole.

Recently converted into a grave.

“Yeah...Yeah, I'm okay, Piper.” Nate ejected the magazine from his rifle and cleared the chamber, deftly catching the round and thumbing it back into the mag in one smooth motion. “Just being a man out of time, I guess.”

“Some day I gotta know how a suburban dad ends up being able to field-strip a rifle in his sleep.” Piper reclined on the least dingy couch, brushing off spent shell casings as she put her feet up. “I mean, you really know your way around a gun. It's enough to make a girl worry about her choice in companion, you know.”

The big man chuckled. “Wasn't always a dad, Piper. Once upon a time, I was a soldier. A highly-trained, perfectly sculpted Adonis of the battlefield.” He swept his arm over a nearby desk, sending debris scattering onto the floor, and set his weapon down. He dragged a crate over, sat on it, and began to carefully clean the steel death-dealer with a (relatively) clean rag.

“What's an Adonis? Some kinna animal?”

Nate rolled his eyes, smirking. “Guess classical mythology misses a step after global inferno. Adonis was a Greek god of rebirth and health. Think...” he scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Think of the perfect, healthy human; all lean muscle and perfect bone structure.”

“So...a hot guy? You were hot? You?” Piper scoffed, rummaging inside of her long coat.

Nate pointed a grease-smeared finger at the snickering reporter, squinting one eye in an approximation, he hoped, of parental authority. “Hey now. The gut and the gray hairs are the reward for survival.” He patted his slight beer-gut and slapped the magazine back into the rifle. “And the scars, well...I'm told they make me look distinguished.”

“They make you look like you slept with a rake, Blue.” Piper removed a tattered pack of cigarettes from her coat and set one between her lips. “I'm a reporter, remember? I call 'em like I see 'em.” She rifled through her pockets, frowning slightly.

“Trade ya a light for a smoke.” Nate flicked open a recently-liberated lighter, illuminating his salt-and-pepper hair and beard. The deep scars in his face seemed even more menacing in the orange light.

Piper blinked. “You smoke? Didn't take you for the type.” She tossed him the pack and leaned close, coaxing the end of the paper tube into a bright cherry against the flame.

“Yeah, I quit for a couple centuries, but I'm back on them now.” Nate chortled as he lit his own, keeping the glowing tip concealed in his cupped hands, holding it inverted and hidden as he let loose a heavy cloud from his lungs. “No...I used to smoke back in the Army. One of the few things that made it worth it.”

“You keep talking about the Army, and soldiers. What was that, like the Gunners?”

Nate shook his head, shifting his body so that his body hid his cigarette while affording him a view of the entrances and windows. Piper always wondered if he knew he was doing it, or it was just a habit. “Not at all like the Gunners. God, no.” Nate took another deep drag, absent-mindedly drew his pistol, and laid it on the desktop, hand resting on its grip. “We were kind of like the Minutemen, protecting and serving the greater good. And we were kind of like the Brotherhood of Steel-”

“Those nutjobs in the Vertibirds? The ones that are all 'Paladin' this and 'cleanse the impure' that?” Piper shifted on the couch, leaning closer. “You were like those guys?”

“Only kind of. The 'Paladin' stuff is just a rank. We had the support, the weapons, and the training that would put all of the Commonwealth to shame. Me and my guys...we were more than a team. We...we acted like parts in a machine. I was never afraid of opening a door, or moving through a city at night, or even being shot at. I knew my guys would keep me safe. And they knew I would do the same.” Nate snuffed his cigarette in the palm of his hand, snaring another from the pack.

“Like you and me, out here in the thick of it?”

“Believe it or not, Piper, before the bombs dropped, I was in places even worse than...” he waved a calloused hand. “This. Raiders will kill you because they can, the Brotherhood will kill you because you're in the way. When someone tries to kill you because they hate you, because their home and their children and their children's children depend on it, because...” Nate lit another cigarette, reducing half of it to ash in a single drag. “Because all you are is a monster...It's a hell of a lot worse, Piper.”

Piper's brow dropped, her eyes narrowed, her lips pulled into a slight frown. “What kind of things did you do back in the Army, Blue?”

The light of Nate's cigarette was not reflected in his deep-set eyes. “It's in the past, Piper. Let's leave it buried.”

They sat in silence for a long hour, Nate's eyes set firmly on a point on the floor while Piper rummaged for loose caps and supplies. He grunted, nodding to the exit, and the two walked out into the foggy morning.

“So...why'd you quit, Blue?”

Graygarden had just peeked into view over a hill's crest, Nate was stooped over adjusting his boots. “Wha?”

“Smoking. You said you used to smoke in the Army, with all your buddies. What made you quit?” Piper kept her voice light, ostensibly keeping an eye on the horizon, sneaking looks at Nate's face out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh.” Nate held up his left hand, the well-polished gold of his wedding band glinting in the early sunlight. “Nora.” He straightened, stretching. “It was our...sixth date? Seventh?” He shrugged. “I'm bad at keeping dates. Anyway. I'd spent the night at her place,” he said, rolling his eyes at Piper's exaggerated 'oh' and feigned blush. “and I got up early to make her breakfast. She was a college student at the time, so she didn't have much in the way of real food, but I was a bachelor. We know how to improvise.”

“The imagination recoils in horror, Blue. What'd you make her, potato-crisp and macaroni casserole?”

Nate blinked and nodded. “Got it in one! With extra steak sauce.”

Piper shuddered.

“Needless to say, she was less-than-impressed.” Nate shrugged. “I never saw what the problem was. She said she needed something to wash the taste out of her mouth, so I offered her a smoke.” He smiled, running his fingertips over the ring. “She said she'd rather...” He mumbled, trailing off and blushing.

“Rather what, Blue?” Piper leaned close, nudging the big man.

“She said she'd rather...wash the taste out with me.”

Piper frowned a little, then her eyes widened. “Oh! Saucy!”

“Yeah...That was a good morning...” Nate cleared his throat. “Kind of puts one off smokes, that kind of incentive.”

Piper punched Nate's arm playfully. “You dog! Was this a...one-time kind of thing? Or an ongoing arrangement?”

Nate said nothing, but the corners of his bearded mouth twitched upwards. “We should get moving.”

“Wait, Blue.”

The old soldier turned, shifting his rucksack on his shoulder.

“So...you're smoking again, yeah?”

Nate responded with a blink. “...Yes? Is this a trick question?”

“No, just...” Piper sidled up to the bigger man. “If you're smoking now, you're not acting like a husband anymore. It's like you're back in the Army, sharing a smoke with your buddies.” She reached out, touched his shoulder gently, stepped closer. “I'm all for moving forward, but...don't let that part of you die.”

Nate scowled, his mouth set in a line. “Why, Piper? Nora's dead-”

“But we don't know if your boy is. Blue,” Piper stepped in front of Nate, taking his left hand in hers, and pressed lightly against the ring on his finger. “You don't want to see your kid as a soldier. When you see him again, and you will, be a father.” She smiled, a cute quirk of the lips. “If not for him, if not for me, if not for yourself...for Nora.”

Nate pulled his hand away and set his rifle on the ground. Rough, calloused hands cupped Piper's cheeks, and his chapped lips pressed against her forehead.

“Thanks for reminding me, Red.” Nate cleared his throat, hoping to mask the break in his voice.


	2. Chapter 2

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

“It's open!”

The metal hatch over the root cellar swung open silently, letting in the sound of gentle rain and the distant rumbles of thunder. Nate thumbed back the hammer of his revolver, listening intently.

Hard-soled shoes. Lightly encumbered. Overcoat. Lot of metal on one hand.

He took aim.

No. Not 'on' one hand.

“Nick. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He set the revolver back on the wooden crate and picked up his cigarette from its resting place. “Come on in and pull up...Uh...”

“A bucket that's not full of ammo? Damn hard to find it in this little den.” The synth's eyes shone from under the brim of his formal hat. “I'm heading out for a walk, just to stretch my legs, if you catch my drift. Wanted to know if you'd join me.”

“Mmm. I'm good, Nick.” The soldier snuffed his cigarette on the revolver's barrel and snapped the slide back onto the disassembled 10mm pistol before him. “Trying to get a half-decent gun in everyone's hand. Don't get me wrong, the pipe pistol is a marvel of battlefield engineering, but, y'know.” He flashed a grin. “Man's gotta have his standards.”

“Yeah...'Cept you've been down here for three days. You haven't come out since our little pleasure cruise in Kellogg's head. I get it, it wasn't easy on either of us, but you're lettin' it get in your head.” Nick tapped his plastic temple with his fingers. “And this is comin' from a guy who had someone else literally installed in his central processor.”

Nate's gaze flicked to the revolver. The gun that killed his wife. That took his son. Kellogg's gun.

“Mine now,” he whispered.

“See? It's stuff like that. Whispering sweet nothings to guns under your breath like that ain't healthy.” Nick reached into his hat and removed a small cardboard box. “These change your mind?” Nick casually tossed the pack onto Nate's bed. “Genuine sealed and preserved. Cost me a bit, too.”

Nate eyed the cigarette pack. “Black Hare? Someone's been telling you stories.”

“It's the price of talking to the press. Now, we doin' this or what?”

* * * *  
“See? Isn't this better than cleaning guns over and over in a wet, dirty hole?”

Nate wrenched his foot out of some thick, glutenous mud with a whispered “...fuck!” He flicked his butt away and lit another from the freshly-opened pack. “Yeah, Nick. This is paradise. I'm wet, it's cold...” He rummaged through his pockets, growling. “And I just lost my lighter. So yeah, fuckin' paradise.”

Nick handed his own over. “Quit whining. And light up.”

The old soldier grunted his thanks and produced a lit cigarette with practiced ease. He shouldered his combat rifle and nodded towards a radio tower off in the distance, passing Nick his lighter as he moved towards it. “Reception's been fuzzy for a day 'r two. Might be something's made a nest there.”

The synth sighed. “This was supposed to be a pleasure cruise, an aimless walk across the beauty of the Commonwealth. Not for runnin' errands.”

“A soldier doesn't get pleasure cruises. We get patrol. Same thing, really.”

“Look, Nate, about that. You aren't-”

Nick fell silent as Nate snapped his right fist upwards. Both froze, listening intently around them. Light rainfall. A cool breeze. A-

“Mirelurks, Nick. Three of 'em.” Nate's whispers were harsh, urgent. He brought his rifle to bear, creeping forward towards the radio tower, and Nick could just hear the scuttling of those horrendous crab-beasts. His own revolver, a snub-nose job that Nate had given him, fell into his palm from a hidden holster in his sleeve. He thumbed back the hammer quietly as he followed Nate, cresting the hill to the cement-and-steel structure.

Three hulking shapes, all chitinous armor and saw-like claws, huddled around a bloody pile of bones. Nick thought they might have belonged to a brahmin, at one point, but the monster's appetites and mandibles precluded any solid definitions. Nate knelt, adopting a firing stance as if her were born to it, and made a few quick gestures with his right hand.

Eliminate legs. I'll execute.

Nick saw Nate's hand move to his rifle's slide, found himself tensing.

The well oiled snap! of metal.

The mirelurks turned as one, Nick already squeezing the trigger.

“Get those fuckers!”

Nick hesitated. That wasn't Nate...

Then all hell broke loose.

 

* * * *

“Remind me again, Nick. What was the point of this little walk? Relaxing?”

Nick rolled his eyes as he rifled through the pockets of the Gunner at his feet. The squad had spotted Nick and Nate right as the two prepared to take out the 'lurks. It had been a clusterfuck of scrambling for cover, hurried over-the-shoulder shots, screams, and the frantic application of three stimpacks to Nate's leg. The image of a Gunner's knee exploding in a fine, red mist, immediately set upon by a mirelurk who began to devour the screaming man while still alive burned brightly in Nick's mind, the only clear memory of the crazed event.

“We were relaxing, until you decided to go the full Combat Carl on us.”

“Oh, god. I remember Combat Carl. Did any of those toys survive?” Nate grunted, using a butcher's hook to gouge out a basketball-sized lump of mirelurk meat, taking care to wrap it in [mostly] clean newspaper.

“You can find 'em here and there. One case I worked on involved a sealed, brand-new, never-been-opened Smokejumper Sam. Lotta blood on that doll's hands.” Nick unceremoniously shoved the Gunner's pistol, ammo, and food into a canvas sack, where it clattered with the rest of the battlefield loot.

“They're not dolls, Nick. They're action figures.” Nate lit another cigarette, smiling.

“Wasn't talkin' about the toy.” Nick hoisted the bag over his shoulder, walking past Nate to inspect the radio tower. “Looks like they just gnawed through the central power line. It's shortin' out here. I can patch it, but it's gonna cost a flashlight.”

Nate nodded, sitting on a mirelurk corpse while Nick swiftly disassembled a laser pistol, stripping out the usable wiring.

“Still. Thanks for getting me out of that hole. I needed this.”

Nick grunted.

“Forgot how good it felt to fight.”

Nick sighed and turned to Nate, arms folded across his chest. “Look...”

“I know, Nick.” Nate waved him off, lighting another cigarette with his own.

“No, I don't think you do. The reason that we saw in Kellogg's head bothered you so much is that you saw a glimpse into your future.”

Nate glared, his teeth bared. “Be careful, Tinkertoy.”

“Yeah, I'll be careful. You gotta be when you're around a killer-for-hire with nothin' to lose. Someone who'll take any dirty job, and is good at one thing. Makin' folks dead.”

The big man stood, eyes fixed on Nick's. “You don't know-”

“What I'm talkin' about? For god's sake, kid, look at yourself! You lost your family, we went on a revenge-fueled hunting trip, and now you don't know what to do? Kind of drifting? Kid, we saw how that ended with Kellogg. The man was a killer, but he had the opportunity to be a father. When he lost that, he went back to the only thing he knew.” Nick snatched the lit cigarette from Nate's lips, taking a deep drag and blowing it in the man's face. “Here's the kicker, though. Your family isn't dead. Shaun's still out there. But you've given up. You're not a father anymore. You're a soldier.”

Nate stared forward with dead eyes, not looking at Nick but through him. His shoulders slumped, his fingers twitched.

“There's a time and place for fighting, kid. But you can't make it everything. 'Cuz when you find Shaun...What kind of man do you want to be?” Nick picked up the sack and pulled the power switch on the tower. “Should be fine, now. See you back home.”

Nick was halfway back to Sanctuary before a voice called his name.

Nate jogged up to the detective, pausing a moment to catch his breath, clutching his side.

“Damn, kid. Need to start takin' the stairs.”

Nate chuckled and wheezed. “Look, what you said back there...”

Nick waved his skeletal hand. “Forget about it. If we gotta talk about my big cowboy speech afterward, it loses its punch.”

Nate straightened and grinned. “Alright. Works for me. Now c'mon. I'll need your help.”

“Doin' what?”

“I'm moving outta that cellar. Not to my old house, that's...that's where Nora and I lived. Too many memories.” Nate said, with a sigh. “But I'm gonna rig up a little shack next to the playground. Something with a couple rooms. Somewhere to start something new.”

Nick grinned. “So, we're back on the road?”

Nate shrugged. “In a bit. It's a big ol' world out there, Nick. Man's gotta find a proper place for himself.”

**Author's Note:**

> This idea's been mulling around my head for a while now, like that one guy at a restaurant who insists on finishing his dessert when everyone else just wants to go home.
> 
> The first time I've submitted a fic to a wider audience than my smaller circle of friends. Might re-write and tidy it up a bit.
> 
> 1/19- Edit. Added a little more emotion, tidied up a bit, gave this work a little more direction and purpose.
> 
> 2/1- New chapter. This might have momentum.


End file.
